"'If there's men in the world,' Lemon went on, 'as can look into the future, Devlin's one of 'em. If there's men in the world as can tell you what's going to happen--without having anything to do with it theirselves, mind--Devlin's one of 'em. The things he's told me of people is unbelievable, but as true as true can be. "Did you take particular notice of the gentleman whose hair I've been jest cutting?" he said to me. "No," says I; "why should I?" "He's the great Mr. Danebury that all the world's talking of," says he. "Is he?" says I. "I wonder what brings him to our shop? What a charitable man he is! "What a good, good man he is!" "Good ain't the word for him," says Devlin. "He comes to our shop because it's out of the way. All the while I was operating on him he was thinking of a little milliner's girl as he's got an appointment with to-night. 'Pritty little Ph[oe]be!' he was saying to hisself as I was cutting his hair. 'What eyes she's got! Bloo and swimming! What a skin's she's got! like satting, it is so white and smooth! What lips she's got! She's a bit of spring, jest budding. Pritty little Ph[oe]be--pretty little Ph[oe]be!'" "But what was he saying that for?" I asks. "He can't be in love with her. He's a family man, ain't he?" "I should think he was a family man," says Devlin. "He's got the most beautiful wife a man could wish for, and as good as she's beautiful; and he's got half-a-dozen blooming children. But that don't prevent his being in love with pritty little Ph[oe]be, and he's got an appointment with her to-night; and, what's more, he's going to keep it." I'm putting a true case to you, Fanny,' says Lemon, 'one of many sech. I fires up at what Devlin says about such a good man--that is, I used to fire up when things first commenced. I don't dispute with him now; I know it's no use, and that he's always right, and me always wrong. But then I did, and I asks him how dare he talk like that of sech a man as Mr. Danebury, as gives money to charities, and talks about being everybody's friend. "O, you don't believe me!" Devlin says. "Well, come with me to-night, and we'll jest see for ourselves." And I go with him, and I see a pritty little girl walking up and down the dark turning at the bottom of the Langham Hotel. Up and down she walks, up and down, up and down. "That must be her," says Devlin. We keep watching a little way off on the other side of the way, where it's darker still than where she's walking and waiting, and presently who should come up to her but the great Mr. Danebury; and he takes her hand and holds it long, and they stand talking, and he says something to make her laugh, and then he tucks her arm in his, and walks off with her. "What do you think of that?" Devlin asks. "He's going to take her to a meeting of the missionary society." What I think of it makes me melancholy, and makes me ask myself, "Can sech things be?" At another time Devlin says, "I shouldn't wonder if you heard of a big